


Bring You High

by R_S



Series: Consciousness [2]
Category: One Piece
Genre: AGAIN Rape/Non-con Elements!!!!, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Graphic descriptions of injury, M/M, Pre-Time Skip, Rape/Non-con Elements, Somnophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-29
Updated: 2015-11-29
Packaged: 2018-05-03 22:06:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5308754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/R_S/pseuds/R_S
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Sanji hears Kuina's name.</p><p>***THIS PIECE CONTAINS NON-CONSENSUAL SEXUAL CONTENT/ otherwise knows as Rape/Non-con*** There have been comments made that there is no warning, even though it is has been slotted for Explicit Rape/Non-con. So I am hereby warning everyone (once again) that there is Non-consensual content... Please beware.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bring You High

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own One Piece or any of its related materials.

Sanji is a blonde brat from North Blue… At least that’s what infamous Former-Pirate-Captain Red-Leg Zeff would say about the little eggplant working for him out on the Blue. That had been nearly eight years ago, and the brat himself was not so much a brat anymore. Sanji had grown lean and tall, choosing to wear fine suits instead of chef’s whites. Said suits of black or deep grey or blue were tailored to accommodate his preferred fighting styles – Styles that would always come first to Assistant Head Chef Sanji on the floating Sea-restaurant Baratie. Every day he wore a tie, and kept his wheat-blonde hair parted so that his left eye was hidden behind. Zeff had taught him this little sailor’s trick, covering one eye so that when he had to go below decks to find something one eye would always be accustomed to darkness, allowing him to actually find what he’s looking for instead of groping around like a buffoon in a barrel. 

A toe of Sanji’s black dress shoe catches suddenly on an uneven portion of dirt road, causing him to pivot awkwardly, bending back on his opposite foot so he doesn’t fall face first with all the crates and bags he’s carrying landing right on top of him and his still-healing broken ribs. The blonde chef sighs. Just what the fuck was he thinking? Joining a Pirate Crew just because he might someday get to see All Blue. He was just coming to accept the very adult conclusion that All Blue couldn’t possibly exist. That looking for it was a waste of time, and of one’s life… But here he was; standing on the solid soil of an island somewhere in East Blue, employed as soul Chef to the Strawhat Pirates. 

The sun hadn’t yet come up, and Cocoyashi was quiet at the early hour. People scattered about, simply fallen asleep where they had been dancing or drinking. Sanji’s not sure how many days Nami’s hometown has been celebrating their newly regained freedom. Long enough for him to bed quite a few young ladies. He’d had a redhead, a freckled blonde, twins with chocolate hair and dragon eyes… Sanji’s own silvery-blue eyes glaze with the memory of how the last woman tasted on his tongue. Like sweet honey and marmalade. Nojiko’s soft locks were like delicate lavender fronds tied back with a red ribbon. He’d taken that bit of fabric between his teeth not two hours ago… 

“Ahoy! You!!” 

“Eh?” Sanji turns, crates and bags stacked up on his shoulders five high, the handles of several more parcels in each hand. “You’re the doctor here, right?” 

Doctor Nako stares hard into Sanji’s one visible eye, leaning close enough to upset his balance, and Sanji staggers a step back. 

“What do you want, Old Man?!” Sanji grouses, repositioning a full barrel of wine on one shoulder. 

“I suppose it’s just my imagination…” Nako mutters, turning and wandering away like a crab that had been kicked. 

Sanji watches him go for a moment before shaking his head and continuing down to the peer where the Pirate Ship was. Sanji’s not seen the Going Merry yet, though he’s heard a lot about it. The ship is a gift from a pretty girl Usopp goes on and on about. The damn liar’s smitten five times over, and Sanji hopes the dumb shit doesn’t break the young maiden’s fragile heart. 

The Strawhat Chef comes to the only ship on the dock, a solid blue shadow in an early opaque fog. At Merry’s side he crouches down, concentrating on a jump that will bring him ten feet up to where he can put one knee down and swing far enough to land both heels on the deck. He’d made jumps like this all the time, on restocking days in competition with other cooks, and smirks when he sticks the landing. Crossing the deck he takes a set of stairs up to a second landing and the galley. A hatch at the foot of Merry’s main mast, and two other doors’ presence do not escape the blonde. Sanji hums quietly to himself as he puts various things away in the galley cabinets. Wondering vaguely why their sniper’s made a trade for eight cases of Hotter-then-Impel Hell’s famous tabasco, he stacks the canned goods. Jars and glass bottles next. They’ve obtained about twenty bottles of good Sake, about half as many that would be ‘great’ sake, and then another three or four cases of piss-sake he’ll use for cooking. Next was the fresh goods, vegetables and meat and eggs. From what he’s seen of his enthusiastic new captain, the meat won’t last through breakfast tomorrow unless he gets pretty creative. Sanji shuts the refrigerator, looking to the left along a little tiled countertop with soaking sink and stove. It was the smallest of kitchens, built on this little caravel. In the dark he hadn’t seen much, he’d get a better look at the outside in the morning, but here in this kitchen under the dim existence of morning – This was his new home. It was simple, and quaint. Maybe even… comfortable? Sanji allows the quiet to settle into him, the gentle rocking motion of the ship as Merry floated, tethered to the dock in suspended grace. “I need a smoke.” The blonde utters, reaching for his top pocket as he pushes his way out onto deck. He stands at the rail overlooking the ocean, lighting his cigarette as a warm orangey glow begins to gather in the sky overhead. A faint hint of golden fire on the horizon. 

Thick smoke full of tar and tobacco burns down Sanji’s throat as he pulls at the glowing red cherry. He’s been smoking for as long as he can remember, it always calms him down. Well… almost all the time. The Chef sighs. He’s been wound up all through the festivities, the drinking, and the escorting; but none of it had been enough. He just can’t stop his mind from working, and now that his hands are empty and there is truly nothing left to do… 

A snore rises and falls on the air just then, startling Sanji into nearly swallowing a mouthful of smoke. The cook composes himself, looking around. It doesn’t take him long to find the source of the offensive sound – the Bastard Swordsman. 

Sanji’s black heels tap on the deck as he treads across the landing and down a set of curved stairs for the main deck, closer to the sleeping man. As he nears him Sanji notices what had to be a dozen empty sake bottles lying all around the man. Sanji picks one up to examine the label. This was the good stuff, strong enough to put out even this badass. The cook shakes his head. Roronoa Zoro. Sanji didn’t like the fucker from the first thing he said. He didn’t even remember what that first thing was, but he knew from that moment that he and Zoro were not fated to get along in any way whatever. He was ugly and rude and self centered! Pigheaded, belly-warmer-wearing Moss Head…

Right? 

Sanji feels the first rays of morning sunshine warm the back of his neck as he looks down at his sleeping nakama. Nakama…. He’d never had anyone close enough in his life to carry such a title. The Old Man might have been close enough to be his father, but it was rarely voiced out loud like that. Luffy, on the other hand, had no qualms about shouting his love for his nakama to the heavens. It was what made him so damn endearing, that love. Sanji wasn’t sure he had love like that for anyone on the crew, except perhaps beautiful Nami, but if taken at face value… 

Zoro is his nakama? 

The blonde man throws his cigarette overboard, bending at the knees to kneel in front of Zoro. The swordsman’s dead asleep with his hands clutching the last bit of sake left in the very last bottle. Sanji grins, reaching to take hold of the cold glass neck he takes the remaining swallows down. Savoring the unique burn of good liquor on his tongue. Zoro’s hands, now unable to grip at glass, wrap around his bandaged torso instead. Sanji tracks the motion with his eyes before setting the bottle down to roll away. Zoro’s fingers gripping down into white linen wraps and tape. The wound on that man’s chest… from left shoulder to right hip, deep enough to lay bare both muscle and bone. Sanji has seen, oh Sea Gods in all Six Blues, had he seen it. He had actually puked, watching Zeff and Johnny sewing the man back together. Zoro shouldn’t have lived! Nobody should be able to be cut like that, and… and…. 

The sucking, wet snore that escapes out of Zoro’s throat snaps Sanji crassly back to the here and now. Zoro isn’t someone he admires! No! That’s stupid! 

“Rise and shine, Asshole.” He cuffs Zoro’s shoulder, not wanting to aggravate such an extensive list of bleeding injuries, but the swordsman’s eyelids don’t open. Sanji waits for a moment, but nothing comes out of the man except a snort and more heavy air. “Oi, Marimo.” He tries, a little louder this time. He’s right in front of him, after all. 

Nothing. 

Sanji hangs his head and grumbles. “Oi! Wake up! You Shitty Bastard!!!”

Still… nothing?

“What the fuck is with you, dense-dumb moss?” Sanji leans in close to Zoro until he’s nearly nose to nose with the man. He’s staring at his face, trying to determine if he’s faking being asleep to get out of conversation, or just being damn lazy. Sanji’s experienced in looking for consciousness in people, especially boozers, but Zoro is – as far as he can tell – genuinely out cold. “One hell of a skill there, shitty Marimo.” He utters, shaking his head again. What the hell was this? Enemies could just walk up to him and he’d, what, sleep right through it? Even Sanji woke up to unfamiliar steps… 

but then, Sanji’s were no longer unfamiliar steps. It had been Sanji who carried Zoro from Arlong Park to Cocoyashi after the man had become too weak to move. Zoro had been venomous at first, every word dripping in poison, but before even the first five minutes had gone by, the swordsman’s green head rested down on Sanji’s shoulder; the man fallen into a dead, exhausted sleep. Was Zoro this comfortable around Sanji? Just because Luffy said they were nakama now? 

Zoro utters a few unintelligible words in his sleep, shifting his legs up into Sanji, who was still kneeling between them. Sanji’s in no position to scramble away before the two of them make contact. Zoro’s knee brushing Sanji’s inner thigh, gradually sliding along the toned limb until he’s pressing on what Sanji realizes now is his own half-a-hard-on. Sanji keens, his hands flying to take ahold of Zoro’s leg. How come this fucker isn’t waking up? Sanji thinks wildly. It’s just then, however, that he’s become aware of another very interesting thing. 

Zoro’s legs are pure power.

Ignoring Zoro’s sleeping face for a moment, Sanji takes his time to pad delicate digits along the other man’s knee and calf, ankle, and back up again. Through the ratty material that made up Zoro’s clothes, Sanji feels the lines of tight ripples and corded muscle the swordsman had been honing to perfection for years. Not that Sanji knew any of that about that man. It certainly isn’t a bad thing. Sanji’s works a hand into the fold of Zoro’s trouser cuff, feeling bare skin against bare skin. Zoro’s legs were thick, grizzled, and hairy, just as masculine legs should be. Sanji grins when his touch brings a twitch to the previously stoic face slumbering away. Sanji’s tingling in the pit of his belly; eels and island wales vying to be first to get out. Sanji squeezes Zoro’s muscled calf hard, digging in blunted fingernails just shy of breaking skin, but the other just moans long and low out of his lungs, hips giving a jut forward into nothing. Sanji cannot believe that didn’t wake Zoro up, but since it didn’t, Sanji thinks of all the things he could do to this beautifully sculpted body, especially since its annoying personality is temporarily absent. Confident that Zoro’s not going to wake up, the blonde brings his arms up under the man’s shoulders, supporting his neck as he lowers him to lie flat on the deck behind the white rail of their ship. Once Sanji has Zoro down on the ground, he examines the fine display under the new dawn sun. The warm glow lighting up Zoro’s copper colored skin, glinting off gold piercings. His cheeks are flushed red from too much booze, and there are dark circles under his eyes, telling of exhaustion and grievous injury. Sanji lifts the hamaraki from Zoro’s belly, unfastening it and pitching it to the side. The white shirt Zoro wore was only a suggestion of clothing. The man had worn it to such a shadow that it was practically transparent. Sanji dives his fingers under the white hem, soaking in warm waves of body head radiating from Zoro’s solid, coiled core. 

Zoro’s lips part, his tongue coming out to instinctively wet dry lips. “Kuina.” He gasps. 

Sanji freezes, his hands coming to rest with palms resting against Zoro’s hard nipples. Who was Kuina? Was it a sword? A woman? Sanji didn’t much care if Zoro wasn’t into guys, Zoro wasn’t here right now, just his body. His gorgeous, perfect body… 

Fingers pinching down around Zoro’s nipples, the man wriggles in his sleep, mouth open in a moan of pleasure to echo across the water. Sanji’s biting back a groan at the feel of all those ridges of muscle rubbing up against him. “Impatient motherfucker.” He utters, though his hands are shaking on the catch of his belt. Anticipation coiling in his guts like hot wire. The cook kicks off his pants, getting something out of his pockets before letting them down in a heap just over Zoro’s shoulder. The blonde then rids Zoro of his boots, socks, and pants, white shirt still clinging to Zoro’s shoulders. 

The thing Sanji had taken from his pockets was a vial of oil, something he prides himself of never being caught without. He coats his fingers generously, letting the light golden oil pool in his palm. He warms it there between his hands for a moment, not convinced that the shock of cold wouldn’t wake the man. Once satisfied, Sanji drops to his knees, using them to part Zoro’s thighs widely until all of him was on perfect display. Sanji watches the rise and fall of Zoro’s chest, how his cock twitched involuntarily from something inside his head. Clear dew weeping from the slit. The cook licks his lips. “Pleasant dreams, Shithead.” Sanji leers, before he’s wriggling one finger into the protective ring of puckered flesh designed to keep intruders like him out. 

The effect on Zoro’s body was immediate, and satisfying. His back arching sharply off the wooden planks, belly jutting up towards the sky. His cock jumps, filling almost instantly will blood, purpled and erect, and crying for attention under Sanji’s nose. But Sanji has just begun. The blonde gives Zoro’s cock a long lick, beginning at his balls and ending by slurping salty precum from his tip. Another finger slips inside, right alongside the first, and Sanji rotates his wrist dragging soft pads along the satiny warm inside walls of Zoro’s body. 

Zoro’s skin shines with sweat, his head lolling from one side to the other as Sanji works him wider. Inserting a third finger, then a fourth to massage Zoro’s tight orifice in preparation for him to come inside. Sanji listens to Zoro’s broken moans and other subtle noises in his sleep. He breathes that name a few more times, each time sequentially more and more longingly. It sounded like a woman, Sanji thought. That was fine. He curves his hand, driving his fingers in him deeply… Sanji would get off to Zoro’s body, and Zoro would get off to the woman in his head. They’d both win. 

“Kuina… please… please don’t be dead…” 

Sanji pauses where he’s been laving Zoro’s right nipple, glancing up to see tears welled up in the corners of the man’s closed eyes, more gently rolling down either side of his face to be lost in green hair. A gasp tore from Zoro’s throat, followed by a single low sob that is very out-of-character for him – at least from what the blonde’s seen up to then. As the tears continue to fall, Sanji finds he hates seeing it. He doesn’t want… that. That Zoro should be reduced, when he could be brought so high… The blonde spreads his fingers, working Zoro open by pressing gently into soft warm flesh, touching deeply inside. Sanji can’t look away from the tears rolling silently down Zoro’s proud, chiseled cheeks. Zoro’s shoulders quivering, his body convulsing around his fingers out of reflex. 

That means he’s ready. 

Sanji strokes the skin around Zoro’s large wounds, softly as to not upset fresh stitching or tight bandages. Reaching for Zoro’s face, Sanji brushes a few of the many tears from the other’s flushed face, rubbing one thumb gently over a green eyebrow before placing a kiss to the man’s wet lips. He’s removing his fingers from inside, and Zoro gasps in his sleep, Sanji taking advantage of his open jaws to swipe a questing tongue over teeth and gums, teeth coming together to nip the flesh of Zoro’s soft lower lip. Zoro’s back arches further, his hips moving, searching for the stimulus that had been so sweetly there and then taken away. 

Leaning back, Sanji rests his knees under Zoro’s thighs, palms just inside each knee to push back the swordsman’s thick legs. Sanji kisses at an uninjured spot on the other man’s belly, reaching down to guide himself into the other’s well-prepared entrance. Zoro’s body writhes needily, low wines escaping from somewhere inside of him. Sanji drinks in every sound, commits every angle. Zoro’s body deliciously splayed out under him in the sun. 

“Kuina.” Zoro whispers, and Sanji waits to satisfy his own curiosity of the name, leaning his head in until Zoro’s lips are right next to his ear. “One’f us’llbetha best…” Zoro’s breathy voice doesn’t have much substance, competing with the sea and the seagulls waking up, but he wondered if he’d ever know what it means, or who Kuina is. He’d like to know, though to ask might lead to revealing how he found out. “Humf.” Sanji snorts, pressing himself deep into Zoro’s intensely warm body. “I wonder what you’d say to me, if you knew I were balls deep in you right now, Shitty Bastard.” 

Sanji’s hips come flat against Zoro’s thick abdominal wall, or rather the bandage that had been secured there earlier this afternoon. The cook adjusts his angle, pulling back slightly to push in slowly, testing the contact between them. Zoro’s body didn’t seem to care, pushing itself forward around Sanji hungrily and gripping him tight. The blonde stilled over Zoro, gasping into the other’s chest as that tight, or so tight hole made love to his cock. A thousand times better than a woman, Sanji shamefully finds himself admitting. Zoro’s arms fell onto the planks on either side of him, mouth open for air as Sanji grinds hard into him, each thrust striking and sliding along the length of Zoro’s tender prostate. 

Sanji is careful to be silent, biting back his voice that would have alerted the entire town to what was going on aboard the little Pirate Ship first thing in the goddamn morning. Eyes locked on Zoro’s jade lashes, he makes hard thrusts into the solid body around him. Zoro’s cock erect, and pressing against Sanji’s belly as the other moves. The blonde stills once more to let Zoro’s body worship him, releasing one strong thigh to wrap a hand around Zoro’s neglected penis. Sanji squeezes hard, watching Zoro’s eyebrows knit and unknit in accordance with his actions. The swordsman didn’t last long, once Sanji began to move again. He came hard, legs curling; insides squeezing violently around Sanji’s prick in long pulses until the blonde is biting the back of his own hand, teeth splitting skin and blood dribbling down his wrist as he comes inside of Zoro. 

Later that day, when Zoro asks Sanji what the hell he’s done to his hand, the cook will lie.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!! This is my first Zosan! or is it Sanzo? lol


End file.
